The hallways of the Moscow headquarters for the Russian Union of Journalists snake along with framed portraits of Russian journalists on the walls — corridor after corridor after corridor. The union is a successor to the organization whose 1918 conference was co-chaired by Lenin and Trotsky.
“Are those members of your hall of fame?” I ask my tour guide for what is now the largest media workers’ organization in Russia. A Russian journalist herself, she covered the barbaric war in Chechnya.
“No, they are dead,” she replied. “Sometimes I have a nightmare that I am walking down this hallway and I look up and see my own picture on the wall.”
As the people of the Ukraine brace at the brink of war with Russia — or not — journalists around the globe are confronted with the question: What is the most responsible and ethical way to cover the prospect of war when the first casualty is always truth?
Any such coverage takes a human toll on journalists and citizens.
“Like most Ukrainians, I am preparing emergency backpacks and marking on our Google maps the bomb shelters closest to my home and office,” said Maia Mikhaluk, who with her husband, Nic, direct the work of a Christian ministry, International Partnerships-Ukraine, and its team of full-time faith leaders from their home in Ukraine’s capital, Kyiv.
She told her story in an exclusive to the Chatham News + Record, a weekly community newspaper in Chatham County, North Carolina, with a global outlook.
More than 5,000 miles away, more coverage of the Ukrainian conflict can be found in the Moscow newspaper Novaya Gazeta (New Gazette), whose editor-in-chief, Dmitry Muratov, shared in the 2021 Nobel Peace Prize.
The circumstances under which Muratov is conducting coverage are exceptionally harsh, as is the squeeze the Putin administration has applied to investigative journalists around the country.
The prize put Muratov under surveillance for any hint of violating a “foreign agents” law, he must navigate legalities and government censors, and his staff must continue to deal with trauma in their coverage of the Ukrainian conflict, now going into its eighth year.
Since April 2014, more than 10,300 people have been killed, nearly 24,000 injured and 1.5 million people have been displaced because of violence in eastern Ukraine between the Ukrainian military and Russian-backed separatist forces, according to the Global Conflict Tracker of the Council on Foreign Relations.
Through the words of the Nobel winner himself, including his views on Ukraine; a retrospective from personal experiences; comments from interviews with Russian journalists, and the views of a psychologist helping their colleagues deal with trauma, you can catch a glimpse of Russian history in a hurry.
Muratov took the stage at Oslo City Hall in Norway on Friday, Dec. 10, to accept his share of the 2021 Nobel Peace Prize. At age 60, he breathe new life into a brand of journalism in Russia that speaks truth to power, then ducks.
His speech, entitled “Antidote against tyranny,” carried this last line in a postscript: “I want journalists to die old.”
Muratov mentioned Ukraine more than once in his speech, harkening back to the 2014 deaths of 298 people on a Malaysia Airlines flight shot down over eastern Ukraine after Russian-backed rebels seized the area.
“Hybrid warfare and the tragic, ugly and criminal story of the Boeing MH17 have ruined relations between Russia and Ukraine,” Muratov said, “and I do not know if the next generations will be able to restore them.”
Then he delivered this line: “Moreover, in the heads of some crazy geopoliticians, a war between Russia and Ukraine is not something impossible any longer.”
History surrounds Muratov, who was born in October 1961, a year before the Cuban Missile Crisis, in the city of Kuybyshev with its Volga River port found on 14th century maps in Italy.
In his own search for meaning about the importance of his Nobel moment, Muratov observed:
“The world has fallen out of love for democracy anymore.
The world has become disappointed with the power elite.
The world has begun to turn to dictatorship.
We’ve got an illusion that progress can be achieved through technology and violence, not through human rights and freedoms.
This is progress without freedom?
It is as impossible as getting milk without having a cow.”
In a Novaya Gazeta article published Jan. 21, reporter Valery Shiryaev cautions the world about how to view what is really going on in the Ukraine and challenges Western journalists to see through the fog.
The article carries the headline: “PLOTS POLITICS, Unmanned technologies: Behind the backs of diplomats, echelons of Russian military equipment without personnel are moving to the West.” Here’s the lede:
“A ghost wanders into Europe. The ghost of militarism. From the Far East, from Buryatia and Eastern Siberia, trains with military equipment go to the West. But the crews do not accompany artillery and anti-aircraft systems. There is no one in the echelons, except for ferry teams. This is not an invasion force in the Donbass. This is how our military supports the efforts of diplomats preparing to continue negotiations with the US and NATO on a security system in Europe.”
Shiryaev points to “the epic propaganda battle that began in November, designed to ensure a profitable outcome of the negotiations, not only the diplomatic corps and journalists, but also the military are participating on both sides.”
Too bad Yessen Zassoursky, dean of Lomonosov Moscow State University’s journalism school from 1965 to 2007, isn’t here to translate the propaganda. He missed Muratov’s big moment, but only by a few months as he died in August at the age of 91.
In my role as a visiting professor to Moscow State’s journalism school in 2013, my host asked me if I would like to speak with Professor Zassoursky, president of the journalism faculty at the time. “He is old,” she said, “but he has all his marbles.”
When I entered his office, the size of a small concert hall with packed bookcases lining the walls and soaring toward sky-high ceilings, I noticed that the professor had prepared tea for me with Soviet-era candies on the side.
When in the presence of a legend who started teaching journalism at Moscow State in 1953 when Nikita Khrushchev became the Soviet Union’s leader, you are wise not to speak but listen.
What I heard from Zassursky was how bias in journalism had changed in Russia over a half century.
“We have gone from a journalism of government propaganda to a journalism of commercial propaganda,” Yassursky told me, lamenting how financial interests had skewed truth-telling in the news media.
As the old Soviet expression goes, Zassursky taught journalism at a time when there was no pravda (truth) in Izvestia (The News), the Soviet Union’s newspaper of record, and there was no izvestia in Pravda, the Communist Party’s official newspaper.
Today, as Shiryaev writes, the table has tilted from propaganda to a sophisticated disinformation campaign that has produced “alarming forecasts in Western media and maps describing the imminent takeover of Kiev in January.”
“Interestingly, nationalist websites and bloggers in Russia are unanimously publishing videos from social networks, where military equipment from Siberia and the Far East is sent in trains to the west,” Shiryaev writes.
“Their delight can be expressed as follows: ‘They are coming! Wait! Be afraid!’ There are many opinions that soon the grouping on the borders of Russia, Ukraine and NATO will increase to 500 thousand people. … The Ministry of Defense does not protest or deny. The more videos the better. This is also part of the negotiation process.”
Leave it now to Novaya Gazeta to discern what to report as truth: “Russian diplomacy stage by stage is conducting a special operation to ensure the negotiation process with the United States and NATO.”
Yes, there are “threats and elements of disinformation,” but “the most active part in this operation is also taken by the entire state (in the broadest sense) Russian press.”
How did Muratov prepare for such a challenge? He studied philology and graduated in 1983 from his hometown college, Samara (formerly Kuibyshev) State University, which claims him as a famous alum but which is not known for journalism like Moscow State.
For Muratov, who co-founded Novaya Gazeta in 1993 with funding from former Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev’s Nobel Peace Prize, the struggle to create “an honest, independent and rich” source of news for Russian citizens has come with a heavy price and moments of recognition.
In 2007 when Muratov was honored with an International Press Freedom Award, the Committee to Protect Journalists called his newspaper “the only truly critical newspaper with national influence in Russia today.”
Nonetheless, a Nobel Peace Prize was hard to believe.
“To be candid, I was shocked about the news,” said Eradzh Nidoev, an independent film and video director and a former journalist who graduated in 2012 with a master’s degree from Lomonosov Moscow State University’s journalism school. “In Russia journalism is almost dead.”
Nidoev, a 2013 Transatlantic Media Fellow, was then a producer for the first fully independent, liberal Russian TV channel, Dozhd (TVRain).
Nidoev referred to a 2019 law signed by Putin that meant a journalist who published online and received payments from foreign sources faced having to register as a “foreign agent.”
“According to the new law,” Nidoev said, “several media are named ‘foreign agents,’ which makes them unpleasant for advertisers.”
In his Nobel Prize speech, Muratov called attention to this new reality, saying “journalism in Russia is going through a dark valley,” translating “foreign agents” as meaning “enemies of the people” (Stalin’s ghostly words), and noting, “Many of our colleagues have lost their jobs. Some have to leave the country.”
Now you can understand why Muratov was quick to state publicly in October that he was donating his share of the Nobel Peace Prize to charity, as the 10 million kronor, or $1.1 million (U.S.), comes from a foreign foundation in Sweden.
Putin put Muratov on notice in news media interviews, from CNBC to Tass, that he cannot hide behind his Nobel Prize to avert being labeled a “foreign agent,” saying people must abide by Russian law “regardless of any accomplishment.”
Oksi Lantt, a multimedia producer and innovative educator based in St. Petersburg, Russia, co-authored a Poynter article with me, conducting an exclusive interview in Russian with Muratov on Oct. 8, the day he received word of the Nobel Peace Prize.
Lantt provided her own take on what Muratov is up against:
“The law says:
— if you sometime (even in the past) received any amount of money from any source from abroad
— plus you publish anything (literary) you MAY be announced ‘foreign agent’. Without a trial.”
Lantt founded Silamedia in 2013 to provide training for Russian journalists. She put the Nobel Prize’s meaning for Russian journalists this way:
“I think they can feel that Russia is not fully controlled by Putin. There are people who are trying to turn Russia into a democratic way. They can feel that Russia is not Iran yet and can feel empathy for people who follow their principles.”
In his Nobel speech, Muratov called on investigative reporters around the world to help him create “an international tribunal against torture” and spoke of the power of the printed press: “By the way, Novaya Gazeta is still published on paper. So that people in prison can also read it since there is no internet in prisons.”
Most recently Lantt assisted with an investigative journalism seminar in St. Petersburg organized by Victor Yukechev, director of the Tak-tak-tak Foundation for Promotion of Mass Communication and Education in the Sphere of Law in Russia, based in Novosibirsk, Siberia.
“Tak-tak-tak” is Russian for what you say (something like “Well, well, well” or “hmm”) to buy time to think deeply before you respond.
“The Peace Prize was awarded to the editor-in-chief of a newspaper whose mission is Truth, however bitter and unpleasant it may be for society at times,” Yukechev said.
“As a result, I derived a simple formula: Truth is a movement toward Peace. And the understanding of this formula by journalists from different countries is the real guarantee of Peace, based on Truth,” said Yukechev, who for the past two years has been conducting a joint project on data journalism with German and Ukrainian journalists.
“I must admit that not all my colleagues today are ready to accept this formula,” he added.
Yukechev is not easily deterred in his efforts to develop new methods of public investigative journalism, bringing journalists together with citizens and human rights defenders on social issues.
He began his foundation in 2013 to continue his work as director of the Press Development Institute-Siberia to conduct seminars and workshops for journalists and journalism professors on investigative journalism techniques and legal consultations.
The Nobel Prize news came on the same day that Yukechev opened another training session of his project “Right to the City: From Public Inquiry to Public Participation in Decision-Making.” Leonid Nikitinsky, a columnist for Novaya Gazeta, is one of the trainers.
Since the mid-1980s, Nikitinsky, a lawyer, has been a go-to source on Russian legal developments for journalists.
As a goal, Yukechev said, his project allows citizens to suggest to the authorities “methods and ways to eliminate the causes of human rights violations identified in the course of investigations.”
Muratov has seen more than his share of human rights violations and trauma. Six of his staff members have been murdered, and his newspaper offices have been sprayed with chemicals.
In his Nobel speech, Muratov named his Novaya Gazeta colleagues who have lost their lives: Igor Domnikov, Yuri Shchekotschikhin, Anna Politkovskaya, Anastasija Baburova, Stas Markelov and Natasha Estemirova.
The toll taken on journalists covering war zones like the conflict in the Ukraine is not only physical but also emotional and psychological. They need a special tool kit, like the one designed by Olga Kravtsova, a Russian psychologist who studied human rights, trauma and related issues.
Kravtsova has done training programs and sessions for journalists in different Russian regions and other countries, including post-Soviet neighbors, Sweden and the U.S.
Last year she wrapped up a class, entitled “Psychology of Stress for Journalists,” in the media department at the Higher School of Economics in Moscow. She taught about journalism and trauma at Moscow State University’s journalism school from 2008 to 2012.
She recalled that in 2011 one of Novaya Gazeta’s leading reporters participated in a two-day roundtable discussion, titled “Journalism and Psychological Traumas,” conducted when she was director of the Center for Journalism in Extreme Situations in a collaboration with the Dart Centre Europe for journalism and trauma, supported by the Rory Peck Trust.
Kravtsova, like Yukechev, serves as a member of the Press Council of Russia, whose name in Russian translates as the Public Press Complaints Collegium, which consists of the Chamber of Media Community and the Chamber of Media Audience.
In the U.S. news media organizations have had an on-and-off relationship with ombudsmen to deal with complaints and questions of competence and confidence. To say there is no U.S. equivalent to the Press Council would be an understatement:
“The Public Press Complaints Collegium is an independent Russian civil society structure for media self-regulation and co-regulation. The board was created in 2005 on the basis of an informal agreement between more than 80 media outlets and non-media non-governmental organizations to serve as an arbitration court. The competence of the board is to consider information disputes related to violations of the principles and norms of journalistic ethics as well as those affecting human rights in the sphere of mass media.”
Four years ago, Kravtsova recalled, Novaya Gazeta’s top editor, Sergey Kozheurov, filed a complaint with the Press Council that the reputation of one of his reporters, Pavel Kanygin, was the target of a smear campaign on a Russian TV program. She also recalled three complaints filed against Novaya Gazeta over the years.
Before Kravtsova offers any tips on stress management to journalists, she emphasizes that physical safety comes first, especially if reporters are in a war zone.
“In a situation like murders and losses,” she said, “it’s hard to find the right words on ‘how to take care of yourself.’ But still we need to recharge resources somehow.”
She offered what she called “some very basic and short tips”:
1. Being stressed in a stressful situation is OK. Don’t play Superman (and we know he was a reporter!), acknowledge what you’ve been through, your feelings, limitations and the need to regain strength. Talk to a person you trust, or write down your feelings in a diary. Use stress-management techniques that work for you. Ask for professional help if needed.
2. Try to keep to a healthy routine as much as possible. Don’t rely on alcohol, drugs and other destructive methods. Do some exercise or choose other physical activity that makes you feel better (take a walk alone or together with a friend, walk and play with a dog, dance with the music you like, etc.). Sleep and eat well – stress is very draining on a physical level as well.
3. If the stressful situation is not just one-off but continuous, allocate some time to “switch off.” Create a “stress-free” zone and take time to spend with people you love, and to do things you like, other than work.
4. Make realistic plans. Know the difference between things you can and cannot change. Focus on the ones you can, even if those are small, simple steps.
5. Take care of yourself and your colleagues. If you need help and support, it’s OK to ask for it. Offer your help to others. Develop and be a part of a support circle among your peers and colleagues.
Doing responsible journalism in a war zone is costly, personally and financially.
As you visit the Novaya Gazeta website, a pop-up invites you to “become an accomplice.”
“You can simply close this window and return to reading the article,” the message says. “Or you can support the newspaper with a small donation so we can continue to write about what others are afraid of and think about. Thanks!”
About the author: Buck Ryan, a journalism professor and director of the Citizen Kentucky Project of the Scripps Howard First Amendment Center at the University of Kentucky, has followed journalism trends in Russia over the last decade. He has conducted Maestro Concept storytelling seminars for Russian journalists, including investigative reporters, and journalism school students and faculty across multiple time zones. In 2014 Ryan co-authored an article, “Civic arms race: To Russia, with love for young voters,” with a senior lecturer at Lomonosov Moscow State University’s journalism school on the rise in popularity of Moscow mayoral candidate Alexei Navalny, now in prison and recognized by Amnesty International as “a prisoner of conscience.”
